


The Green-Eyed Queed

by AlmaraAure (AlmaraKasada)



Series: Stranger in this Land [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmaraKasada/pseuds/AlmaraAure
Summary: He fought the war at the side of the Dragonborn, Elyza, a beautiful and noble warrior. She was everything that a Nord desired in a woman. Well, if you could look past the fact that she was a Breton. She practically handed him Skyrim on a silver platter. Now Ulfric has been named High King, and all he needs now is a queen. And when Elyza returned from Valenwood with an alliance in her pocket, she is ready to offer him a queen. But not quite in the way he had expected.Elyza brings him Kitthe, the daughter of a Bosmer king whom Elyza has just secured an alliance with. The thing is that with that agreement came an engagement to Kitthe, and she is far from a starry-eyed princess ready for love.Can Ulfric learn to love his rebellious wife? Or will they both destroy each other?





	1. Kitthe Elmbrook

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually going to be the first in a series of romantic fics that will all take place in the same universe. This will be Kitthe's story, but I plan on writing other characters' stories that all take place during and after the events of the Elder Scrolls games.

“Kitty, my love, wake up!” My sister whispered to me, shaking me awake. I groaned as I opened my eyes. It was still dark.  
“Rielle? What times is it?” I asked, my eyes trying to focus on the clock that I could not see in the darkness.  
“I heard father talking, Kit. They chose a High King in Skyrim,” she whispered, excitement filling her.  
“Lysia said that the High King was chosen as soon as Skyrim declared her independence from the empire.”  
“But they have chosen him. Officially, now! And he’s sent someone to talk to father. They’ve just arrived! Come on! Come see!” She was practically begging, trying to drag me out of bed now.  
I sighed and begrudgingly followed her, putting on my slippers and tiptoeing down the hall. My sister was far more sneaky than I was. The perfect Bosmer, some said. And maybe that was true. She was very young, twenty-five before spring was over. But she was shaping up to be quite beautiful, like our older sister Amaris, who was known as the most beautiful of my father’s six daughters until she disappeared on us three years ago.  
“Come on,” Rielle pulled me to the wall. I could hear my father talking to someone in the other room.  
“You have my word, Dragonborn, that me and my followers will recognize Ulfric Stormcloak as the High King of Skyrim. But as far as an alliance goes, well...that’s not as easy for me. I have my own war to fight in the upcoming months, and I just don’t see your country being able to aid us as much as we’d need.” My father was a stern man. And at the time, I didn’t realize just how reasonable and true.  
“I understand that,” a woman then spoke. Her accent was difficult to place. “If you could aid us now in securing Skyrim, though, we will be able to assist Valenwood in gaining their freedom from the Dominion and their Thalmor oppressors.”  
“If I send my men now, there is very little guarantee that Skyrim will return the favor or even be able to in the coming months. And coming to Valenwood so soon after the naming of your High King. It sounds as if he hasn’t even been officially coronated yet. It is certainly an unusual choice.” There was a brief silence. “Dear girl, I am not insulting your king or your people. I am simply noting a concern.”  
“I understand this is a difficult request,” she continued, “But we feel that if Valenwood joins in our alliance, other countries will see that independence is within reach.”  
“Your alliance? From the way this sounds, there is no alliance. You are simply trying to form one now. You would have been better off maybe sending your King himself. At least then I could see the man you want me to trust with my people’s independence.”  
“The way I see it, you are no king. Our country has just freed itself and named its own king, and we’d like to help you do the same. We would like to support your claim to the throne of the Bosmer people. And not for nothing, but of course High King Ulfric could not come all this way. But he sent me. I am the Dragonborn, sir. And in Skyrim that is a title that cannot be earned.”  
It was then that I felt a hand on my shoulder. I held back a gasp and turned to stare into the eyes of our oldest sister Lysia.  
Lysia’s face was stern, as it usually was when we were doing things like this that could potentially embarrass our father. But, still, she whispered, “That woman is Elyza the Outlander, the new High King’s most trusted advisor. She’s an outsider to the Nordic people, but a hero to them all. It’s said that she defeated Alduin, the World Eater in the land of dead. She’s a very important person and father cannot even begin to grasp what an honor it is to have her come all the way here.  
“Now, nosy birds, stay quiet,” Lysia offered us a brief smirk and then threw open the door to the room. “Father,” she addressed and we could tell by her tall shadow that stretched in the light of the open door that she offered a polite bow. “You sent for me?”  
“Ah, yes,” our father replied, “My I present my eldest, Lysia.”  
“Lady Elyza, it’s a pleasure. Your reputation precedes you. At least to some of us.”  
“The pleasure is all mine. I must admit, you are not unknown to the Stormcloaks either,” the other woman answered.  
“Father, Elyza the Outlander is a great hero among her people. And, if the stories are true, a great savior to us all.”  
“My daughter is a bit of a savant when it comes to the important people of Tamriel,” my father said, not breaking his stoic tone, “But I’m afraid the heroes of Skyrim are not well known to us all.”  
“Dragonborn,” my sister continued, staying as pleasant as possible, “There is much to consider, I’m sure. You come offering terms of an alliance, I am to understand?”  
“That is correct, Lady Lysia,” the Dragonborn replied.  
“Would you mind telling me the terms you had in mind?”  
“High King Ulfric would like your father to send as many men as he can spare to aid in the reconstruction of Skyrim in exchange for Skyrim’s support in his claim to the throne. We also hope to one day in the not-too-distant future combine forces in liberating all of Tamriel from our mutual enemy: the Aldmeri Dominion.”  
“You want my father to send men to Skyrim for an undetermined amount of time on the promise that you will support his claim to the throne, and all that entails, if and when that becomes an option?” there doubt in my sister’s voice was obvious. “You seek an alliance with us, but it seems as if we are the ones with the most to lose.”  
“I understand it’s a difficult possi—”  
“Indeed it is,” my sister audibly sighed, “Surely your king sent you with more than a promise to negotiate with.”  
“Like hell he did! Asking for payment when we at least had the nerve to fight for our freedom? I can’t believe the nerve of these el—”  
“Galmar!” the Dragonborn’s raised voiced made both me and my sister jump as she interrupted a man who spoke with a very gruff voice. “I’ll handle this,” she said to her companion. “You are correct, I am obligated to offer a sort of…deal if you will. To your father, that is.”  
“Well, let’s hear it,” my father said.  
“I understand that you have no sons, Lord Elmbrook. But several daughters.”  
“Indeed.”  
“Our king offers a suitable husband of great status, wealth, and honor.”  
Rielle and I exchanged a look. My face twisted with disgust and hers beamed with excitement.  
“And who is this husband, may I ask?”  
“Our High King will offer himself, in fact.”  
“He what?” the gruff man spoke again, “Elyza, you’re not—”  
“I’m acting on Ulfric’s behalf, Galmar. It was, indeed, his suggestion.”  
“Did your king have a particular daughter in mind, may I ask?” It was my sister who posed the question.  
“We understand that you are needed for your family’s political agenda, Lady Lysia,” the Dragonborn replied, “this is an offer that we make to you, Lord Elmbrook. You can feel free to choose the daughter should you agree.”  
My father only let out a small “hm.” And then everyone in the room was quiet for a while.  
“Perhaps, Dragonborn, it would be best to allow me and my father to discuss this and we can come up with an answer in the morning.”  
Before this was agreed to, Rielle and I slipped back into our room, afraid that our father would catch us snooping. Or worse, one of our guests. For a while we were quiet. But it was Rielle who broke the silence.  
“Do you think father will go along with it?” she asked me.  
“I don’t know, Rielle,” I said.  
“Who do you think father would choose?”  
My mother and my father had six daughters: Lysia, Naria, Laudia, Amaris, me, and Rielle. Amaris had run off three years ago, without so much as a word. My father has said that she never wanted royalty and the thought of him becoming king was too much for her. Lysia said she was probably kidnapped and murdered by the Thalmor.  
Naria had been gone thirteen years now. She was the first to be married. And she died shortly after. After that, father took the rest of us to eastern Valenwood, into hiding for a while, speaking out again the Thalmor.  
Then you had Lysia who, although would have, in most circumstances, been ideal to marry off to a king, but ever since mother left she’s had to fill a void in the family. My father was training her to be something more and take his place one day.  
And then you have Laudia, Rielle and my elder sister. Laudia was difficult to connect to. She was sweet. Well, mostly. While Lysia really cared for us all like a mother hen, Rielle and I were always paired up, being the two youngest. In a similar way, Laudia and Naria always seemed to pair up. She was never the same after hearing news of our sister’s death.  
And then that just left me and Rielle. The only bit of relief I had was that I would not be chosen. Out of the three available sisters, I was the least likely to be chosen. If father chose, he’s offer Laudia. She [em]was[/em] the oldest of us three, and not at all unpretty. Sending her off to Skyrim would probably be the best way to handle her now.  
And if my father decided to give the Dragonborn lady the choice of us three, she would most certainly choose Rielle. Rielle was an uncommon beauty. And she’d be happy to go off, too.  
I never considered that it would be Lysia’s decision.


	2. Kitthe the Meek

I was awoken at dawn that day and told that I had to be washed and dressed. It was Lysia who woke me. I was exhausted and even tried to resist, but with my sister there was no arguing. I was soon in the bath and being washed, then dried and dressed.  
“This is your gown,” I told my sister, looking at the fine embroidery. It was from the Summerset Isles, a gift from Naria to Lysia.  
“It never fit right,” Lysia replied coldly. Then she was braiding my hair into some sort of intricate bun, stopping, cursing in Bosmeri, and leaving the bath before returning with Rielle, who then began work on my hair and wove it into a much more elegant look than Lysia ever could. That was the moment I realized something was wrong.  
I had thought that I was being groomed in general to meet the High King’s people, but Rielle was dressed already with her hair down.  
“What’s going on?” I asked.  
“Hold still,” Lysia snapped. The look on Rielle’s face told me that she knew something, but was either afraid to say it or had been forbidden to.  
“Why am I bein’ done up like this?” I was beginning to get anxious, and my Bosmer accent began to show through a bit.  
“Calm yourself, pet. You’re too old for tantrums,” Lysia replied in Bosmeri.  
“Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” I demanded now, beginning to raise my voice.  
“Shut up.” My sister Laudia had entered the bathroom silently without any of us noticing, “Why don’t you stop acting like such a brat?” Laudia hardly ever spoke.  
“I’m not being a brat—”  
“Yes.” Laudia replied and narrowed her eyes to me.  
My eyes were welling up with tears.  
“I just want to know what’s going on!” I began to sob.  
“Fake tears,” Laudia said, “And fake questions. I saw you last night, but you didn’t see me.” Laudia was probably too observant for her own good.  
Of course, I didn’t stop crying. The only thing worse than being called out by your sister for fake-crying would be to admit it.  
Lysia sighed. “You should be happy. You’re going to marry a king.”  
“Like hell I am!” I yelled, standing up abruptly, pushing Rielle away. She gasped as she then scampered away.  
“You’re acting like a child!” Lysia scoffed.  
“I’m not marrying a man I’ve never met!” I growled and began trying to take my hair down. Before I could make any progress, I was roughly shoved away from the mirror and then slapped across the face by Laudia.  
“You are a spoiled brat!” She screamed right into my face, “You don’t do this for you! You do this for father. You do this for the Bosmer.”  
“You hit me—”  
She slapped me again. I shoved her backwards. She shoved me harder. And then we were hitting and grabbing each other and wrestling on the ground. Rielle was screaming in fear, and Lysia was trying to pull us apart.  
However it wasn’t until the strong arms of my father wrapped around my middle and hoisted me off of Laudia that we stopped.  
“I’m disappointed in you girls,” he said with a heavy sigh, “Pull yourselves together. I will not have this around our guests!”  
“Father,” I said, “I don’t want to go to Skyrim.”  
“And I don’t want to live in hiding of the Thalmor. I don’t want to see my daughter become an old maid.” He shook his head at me, “Finish up here. Come find me in my study after this, Kitthe, we need to have a talk. Until then, Laudia, clean yourself up. Lysia, would you mind assisting me for a moment or two? And Rielle, make Kitthe as presentable as possible.”  
Lysia left with father and Rielle fixed me up. I did as my father asked and met with him in his study shortly after, feeling rather ashamed, but too embarrassed to apologize, even though I know I should have. Instead, though, I waited for him to talk first.  
Father was writing when I entered. A pair of spectacles on his nose, which he removed when I approached him.  
“Kitthe. Let me have a look at you.”  
I looked down at my sister’s gown, which fit me well enough to be flattering. I now realized it was the only garment we had that was formal and had long sleeves, even if they were transparent.  
“You look stunning, my child,” my father was almost smiling. I held back the urge to note that he was giftwrapping me for a total stranger. “You have to understand that I have your best interests at heart. You’re going to be married to a king, for the love of the divines! You’ll never want for anything.”  
“Except for love. Funny how that works, innit?” I scowled.  
Father sighed. “Kitthe, I know you can’t see it now, but this is what is best for you. All I ever wanted was to see my girls safe and, truth be told, Valenwood is growing less safe for you girls. I don’t want to see you killed like Naria. Or kidnapped like your mother. I want to see you as far away from the Thalmor as possible, and right now, Skyrim is the best place for you.” He pressed a cloth handkerchief to his eye for a moment. “You may hate me now, but one day, I hope you understand.”  
I looked down at my slippers. “I don’t hate you, father,” I whimpered. Before I realized it, tears were falling from my eyes. “I’m just so scared, father. I don’t want to leave you—”  
His arms wrapped around me in moments, pulling me into a tight hug. “Of course not, child. But you must. Your child may one day rule all of Skyrim. And you, yourself, will be a queen. Your marriage may even mean freedom for our people. But you have to go and do this for us, alright?”  
I sniffed and dried my tears. “I can do that, father,” I finally agreed.  
“That’s my girl,” he said, giving me a tight squeeze before releasing me. “Now, come. You ought to meet your new companions.”  
And I followed him out of the room to the dining room where the Dragonborn and her entourage appeared to be preparing for their journey home with twelve of our own men.  
The Dragonborn herself was easy to spot. She was the only Breton and not at all what I expected. She was short. About my height, in fact, and she wore light armor. A great Nordic heroine in light armor?  
She was clearly older than me or around my age, but, of course, a man. Her face was beginning to show her age. But she was still beautiful. She had long black hair that she wore tied back. Her eyes were an icy blue, and her skin ivory.  
“Lady Elyza the Outlander, the Dragonborn, First Advisor to the King, and…was there something else?” my father asked.  
“Thane of Whiterun and Eastmarch, High Priestess of Talos, Harbinger of the Companions and the Archmage of the College of Winterhold. And if you want to be fancy, Dragonrider,” the woman replied and smiled at me, “And you must be Princess Kitthe Elmbrook.”  
I recalled her discussion with my father last night. If Skyrim recognized him as the Bosmeri king, then I would indeed be a Bosmeri princess.  
“Yes, I suppose so—” I began and then the woman bowed to me, just briefly. It caught me off guard.  
“I spoke to your sister early this morning. We decided that you’d make a good match for our king and for our country. You’re going to enjoy it in Skyrim.”  
“I don’t really like the cold.”  
Elyza’s smile faded briefly before returning, “Well, neither did I when I first came. But it’s not all snow. Some parts of Riften or Markarth are quite beautiful.”  
“I think I’ll miss the flowers,” I sighed.  
Elyza looked from me to my father. “Interesting,” she said with a nod.  
“Dragonborn,” one of her entourage spoke up, “Are you really sure about this.”  
Elyza smiled and then turned to him. “Oh, I am only growing surer. I think they’ll make quite a nice pair.” And with that she bowed to us and took her leave.  
My father sighed and gave me a disappointed look, shaking his head. I avoided his eyes.  
“I sent your sisters to pack your bags this morning. Best to eat, say your prayers and get on the road. It’s not safe for you to stay long.” And with that, my father left me alone with the Nordic entourage.  
“Lady elf,” a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered Nord came up to me and offered a curt bow, “My name is Ralof. If you need anything, you can ask me.”  
“Ralof will act as your personal bodyguard through our journey back to Skyrim,” Elyza, now training her attention on us, added, “He’s one of the best men we have.”  
I simply nodded. I had heard that Nord men were brutish and wild. I didn’t much like the thought of being married to one. I didn’t much know how I was going to bear my marriage.  
Hours later, we were on our way to Skyrim. My father hugged and kissed me, and my sisters bid me farewell. And it was the last time I was to see them before my wedding day.


End file.
